Giving Up
by Leigh Hayley
Summary: Sam contemplates the past...as well as the future. Oneshot *Follows "Point of No Return*


Sam's lips parted and instantly conformed around the rim of the beer bottle in his hand. The ice-cold liquid filled his mouth, slid down the back of his throat, and hit his stomach in a satisfying wave. He closed the refrigerator door as quietly as he could, careful not to wake his brother in the next room.

The sliding doors separating Bobby's kitchen from his office buffered any noise Sam might have made, but that didn't mean anything. Lately, even the softest sound woke Dean, sent him shooting straight up, gun in hand and aimed dead ahead. His eyes would be wide open, wild, and bloodshot with exhaustion. More than once, he'd come close to shooting Sam, but somehow they both often managed to ignore the following silence and slip back to sleep again.

Sam tiptoed to the doors, slid one to the side and peeked in at Dean. Thankfully, he was still fast asleep on the bed Bobby had recently set up in his library. The mattress had certainly gotten a lot of use the past few days and had held more than one unconscious body in it.

First, Adam, then, Dean, and now Dean again.

_Adam…_

Sam closed his eyes, heaved out a heavy sigh and tipped his head back, downing another long swig of beer. They didn't know where their little brother was. They didn't know if he was alive or dead. All they knew was that he was gone.

Again.

And not just Adam. Castiel, too.

After beating the living hell out of Dean and giving him countless death glares over the span of three days, Cas had completely given up on him. And to make matters worse, he called Dean a failure and told him he no longer believed in him. Yet despite that, the angel had still sacrificed himself for the cause, for the beliefs he still seemed to have, and for Sam and Dean as well.

And just like Adam, they didn't know if Cas was alive or dead.

Just when Sam thought things couldn't get any worse, fate…

_Or destiny. Whatever the hell it is…_

Always stepped in and bitch slapped him in the face with a hard hand of reality.

But on the bright side, at least, Sam had his older brother back. And he was still Dean Winchester. Not the living, breathing, human condom for an archangel.

At least that was something small to be thankful for.

_"Dammit, Zachariah. Stop it, please. I'll do it. Okay, yes. The answer is yes. Do you hear me? Call Michael down, you bastard!"_

Sam could still hear Dean's words buzzing in his ears, telling Zachariah he'd say yes to Michael, end it all, including the world. Later of course, Dean had said different. He'd said he'd lied to the angel, changed his mind at the thought of letting his little brother down.

But Sam knew the truth.

He had seen the look in Dean's eyes, seen the desperation there, the hopelessness, the utter defeat. He'd seen the years of inner torment, the decade of loneliness and exhaustion. He saw the guilt he felt for the ones they'd left dead in their wake.

Hell, Dean had even said it, himself.

_"Think about how many people we've gotten killed, Sam. Mom, Dad, Jess, Jo, Ellen…"_

Sam had tried to comfort Dean, tried to remind him they'd technically never really killed them, never pulled the proverbial trigger, but that didn't ease his brother's pain. And Sam knew better, too.

No, maybe they hadn't pushed them into the bottomless pit of death, but they'd certainly led them all to the edge.

Sam slipped into Bobby's office as quietly as he could and sat down in an empty easy chair, close to the bed. The corners of his lips turned up as he watched Dean sleep, smiling softly at the pleasant sight of seeing his chest rise and fall with every breath he took.

Dean was breathing. He was alive. And Sam had never been more thankful for anything in his entire life. Even despite what Dean said after Sam had locked him in the Panic Room.

_"I just…I don't believe…in you. I don't. I don't know whether it's gonna be demon blood or some other demon chick, or what, but…I do know they're gonna find a way to turn you."_

Sam had grit his teeth at the words, anger bubbling up from somewhere deep in his belly. His first instinct had been to haul off and punch Dean right in the face, but he'd squelched the urge to a hard spot, just behind his ribs and told it to stay there. Maybe he'd save it for later and use it some other time.

He felt anger at first, but it didn't take long for his emotions to turn to something else.

Hurt. Sam was hurt, damaged by Dean's words, possibly irreparably. He'd felt hot tears sting his eyes and gather in the corners. They wanted to be set free to roll down his cheeks, but Sam had refused to let them.

And then, adding insult to injury, Dean had gone on to say that Sam was angry and self-righteous. Pretty much called him a whiny, little bitch-baby.

_"Lucifer's gonna wear you to the prom, man. It's just a matter of time…it's the truth. And when Satan takes you over, there's got to be somebody there to fight him, and it ain't gonna be that kid. So, it's gotta be me."_

Sam _was_ angry. He knew that better than anyone. And maybe he was a bit self-righteous sometimes. But Dean…Dean was a self-sacrificing douche.

Maybe one character trait was worse than the other, but Sam wasn't sure which one. And he also knew it didn't matter right now anyway.

The thick, glass beer bottle, including the liquid within it, was beginning to warm against his fingers, but Sam took another sip, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. His whole body was sore from being thrown across the beautiful angel room earlier, and despite the three beers he'd had since returning to Bobby's, he could still taste blood in the back of his throat.

_Blood…_

_"We may be blood, but we are not family."_

Adam's words had been said the day before, but the pain they'd caused were still fresh and they still stung Sam's ears. Adam had held nothing back when he'd told them his feelings toward his newfound family. He'd completely denounced their father, saying he was nothing more than a stranger who would take him to a baseball game once a year. And he didn't have much more to say about his new brothers either.

And honestly, Sam couldn't blame him.

After all, the kid had been brutally killed by one of the many monsters his father had worked his whole life to protect him from. Then, he'd been sucked out of heaven, the only place he'd probably ever experienced any real semblance of happiness.

He'd been pulled into something he didn't deserve, something he sadly had no chance of fighting.

The ever-famous Winchester Curse.

Sam closed his eyes, dropped his head forward, and sighed.

The Winchester Brothers weren't big on hugs, or any other physical display of affection for that matter, but Sam wished with all his heart and soul that he'd hugged Adam.

Just once.

Hell, he didn't know the kid from Adam, no pun intended, but that didn't matter. He was still blood and Sam loved his little brother every bit as much as he loved his older one.

He lifted his head and gazed at Dean.

Sam smiled softly when he muttered something in his sleep, and couldn't help but wonder what Dean was dreaming about. Sam hoped it was something pleasant. After all, Dean deserved it.

_"I owe you an apology. Just…let me say this. I don't know if it's being a big brother or what, but to me, you've always been this snot-nosed kid that I've had to keep on the straight and narrow. I think we both know that that's not you anymore. I mean, hell, if you're grown up enough to find faith in me…the least I can do is return the favor."_

Sam closed his eyes, sat back, and smiled at Dean's earlier words. Even in his wildest dreams, he'd never thought he'd hear Dean say something like that. And if he had to go through everything twice, just to hear his brother say he had faith in him again, Sam would gladly do it.

_"So, screw destiny, right in the face. I say we take the fight to them and do it our way."_

Sam gulped down the last swig of his beer and placed the empty bottle on the floor next to him. The contact of glass against hardwood clinked a bit too loudly and Dean stirred. He frowned in his sleep, moaned loudly, and turned over onto his side, facing Sam, but thankfully, didn't wake up.

Satisfied that Dean was still unconscious, Sam slipped a large hand into his right pocket and pulled a familiar gold amulet from its hiding place. He gently caressed his thumb across the surface, touching the metal and drawing strength from it.

He hadn't questioned why Dean had thrown it away. In fact, Sam understood completely. But that hadn't stopped him from walking to the motel wastebasket and retrieving Dean's discarded necklace. And despite Castiel calling it worthless, Sam didn't feel that way.

In his eyes, it wasn't trash, so it didn't belong amongst that which was.

Sam smiled at the necklace, pressed a kiss to it, and quickly shoved it back into his pocket.

Maybe one day he'd tell Dean he had it. Maybe one day he'd be brave enough to pull it out of its pocketed prison and wear it on his neck. Or maybe, just maybe, one day he'd give it back to Dean.

He wasn't sure yet, but for now he just liked knowing it was still here. Still in the family.

Sam stood to his feet, crossed the room, and returned with a blanket. He made his way back to the easy chair, curled up on it as much as his large frame would allow, and closed his eyes.

Sam didn't know what tomorrow would bring. He didn't know who else would live or die. He didn't know if they'd ever see Adam or Castiel again. But somehow, for now, in this moment, none of that mattered.

The only thing that mattered was the one and only thing Sam knew for sure.

He knew that no matter what, they weren't giving up.

**-Please review...Thank you. -Leigh**


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